Look After You
by Scarecrowqueen
Summary: Now that Jack had made up his mind to help, there wasn't a force on Earth that could stop him. Companion to "Of Heart(h) and Home." If Heart(h) is essentially 'Five time Jack gatecrashed Aster's burrow and made himself useful, and One time he didn't have to leave,' then this fic is 'Five conversations Jack had about Bunny, and One he had with him.' Rating has changed.
1. Everything Shines, Leaves Me Empty Still

I did a thing, guys. I didn't mean too, Heart(h) was meant to be a one-shot, which became a chaptered fic once I realized that I needed far more than a couple pages to tell everything that my Aster-muse was feeding me. Of course, no sooner had a posted the epilogue and silenced the Aster-voice in my brain then the Jack-voice started up, complaining about how I'd been ignoring him, and inquiring minds wanted to hear his side of things, and why won't I just start writing already?

So, here it is, Jack's entire thoughts on the matter. This is shaping up to be a verse in my head now, with a possible third part if the muses keep being as noisy as they are. So, without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

"Is Bunny ok?" The question came somewhat out of left field, making Jack blink a bit, peering quizzically at Jamie across the math homework Jack was currently helping him with. Jack didn't know when school got so complicated for kids so young, but he was glad that he'd had nothing better to do for three hundred years of nights he didn't need to sleep and summers where he was unneeded by most of the population and he decided that educating himself was a top priority. Well actually, it had snowballed from deciding that learning to read would be beneficial since there was no one who could see him to read to him, and society seemed to be becoming more and more dependent on written words for organization on functionality. Once he could read there was nothing stopping him from looking up anything he felt like; not like the locked doors of a closed library could stop someone who couldn't be seen picking them. After that things had just snowballed, his natural inquisitiveness taking over until he found himself crashing university lectures and losing entire weeks hiding out in the back corner of a library after hours, devouring subject after subject in a never-ending quest to know _why._ Jack didn't consider himself brilliant or anything, just particularly well read on a long list of diverse and eclectic subjects that Jack found fascinating.

Long division though, well, Jack and long division had a long-standing mutual animosity, and he had no clue why any nine-year old would conceivably need to know it.

"Jack, are you listening?" Jack blinked abruptly brought back into the present from his mental tangent. This was getting to be a problem, despite having been a guardian for six months he still occasionally found his mind wandering off, often in the middle of a conversation. Jack knew that it would take time yet to retrain himself away from habits formed during three centuries of no one caring if he spaced out, but his inability to hold up his end of a discussion was getting a bit ridiculous. And if Jamie's concerned look was any indication, he was dangerously close to doing it for the second time in as many minutes. Gathering his thoughts and rewinding back to the original question, Jack was forced to admit that he didn't think he could answer the question with a confident yes. Not wanting to alarm the rather sensitive boy, Jack decided that obfuscating the issue was the best immediate solution.

"Gee Jamie, why would you ask?" Jamie scowled at Jack with such force that Jack was surprised and suddenly defensive, feeling like he should be expecting an accusation any time now.

"Because last time he came over to see Sophie he looked like my mom after three weeks on nights?" Ah, that. Jack mentally cursed, he sometimes forgot that Jamie was sharp as a tack and scarily observant, the kid missed nothing, seriously. It was undeniably true, too, Lately at the last couple 'Guardian Gatherings' as North had taken to calling them, Bunny had looked more and more worn down, although he'd denied it to any who'd asked, at one point snapping at a well-meaning Tooth so fiercely she'd cried after he'd stomped away. Jack had been furious and well-prepared to give him a piece of his mind, but the strained look on North's face as he and Sandy had comforted their feathered friend had stopped him. I was obvious North was concerned to, and Jack had to admit the feeling was mutual. Bunny had a temper yes, but it only got truly nasty and uncalled for when he was already feeling stressed and needed a convenient, if inappropriate outlet. Because heaven forbid Bunny actually _talked _about his feelings like a normal individual. Well, for a given value of normal at least, considering that a six foot tall Rabbity-looking creature from outer space was perhaps one of the less-strange immortals Jack had ever stumbled over in his existence. And Jamie was giving him that look again; Jack _really_ needed to learn some focus, like, yesterday. Now, where was he? Right, dodging the question.

"They had your mom on nights again? Dude, bummer." Jack felt genuine sympathy, Jamie's mom was a nurse at the local emergency clinic, being on nights meant she barely saw her children and husband, and, as Jack had seen firsthand, was usually so exhausted from the 12 hours shifts that she was a practical Zombie. Not like Jack was a Zombie in the reanimated-corpse way, more like a really-tired-person-in-need-of-more-sleep Zombie.

Conversation with Jamie, right. Focus Jack, focus.

"You're not saying you haven't noticed?" Jamie seems slightly accusatory, like Jack's failing as a friend and fellow Guardian by not dropping everything to immediately rectify the problem. Jack couldn't blame the kid for feeling that way, not when Jack agreed that he probably was a shitty friend for having let it go so long. Admittedly though, Bunny was difficult to get along with on his good days, on his bad it was nearly impossible, and Jack and Bunny had never been on good terms exactly. Oh sure, things were loads better now that Easter '68 was forgiven and forgotten, but Bunny, like Jack, and well, all the Guardians really, was an intense personality and took just the right touch to handle properly, and Jack didn't think he yet had that down to a fine science yet, despite the time they'd spent together. Turns out, Bunny had as large a love of obscure trivia as Jack did, and they often spent time trying to outdo each other in a friendly know-it-all competition. It was amazing how Jack's usually nonexistent attention span could be held by one person for several hours without him drifting off, Jack had blamed it on a combination of the mental stimulation, and the fact that Bunny was just such a larger-than-life person that he was impossible for Jack to ignore even for a moment inadvertently.

Well, at least they had been spending time together, until bit by bit Bunny had slowly been more and more absorbed in his Easter preparations, the last couple times Jack had dropped by the Warren Bunny had barely stopped to grunt a hello before turning back to whatever he'd been doing when Jack had arrived. Come to think about it, that was when everyone had begun to notice a decline in Bunny's wellbeing...

Aw hell. Jack was way too clever to be this damn stupid.

"You're right Jamie." The boy blinked at Jack's statement, clearly expecting to be told he was wrong and to mind his own business.

"I am?"

"Yeah kid, you are. Now, let's get this math stuff done before dinner so I can go check up on tall, dark and furry." Jamie cracked a smile at the amusing moniker, turning his attention back to his homework again, carefully working out the equation, tongue poking out in concentration. Jack watched him fondly as he worked, while mentally he was pondering his options. If Bunny was stressing out of this coming Easter, then the best way to ease his friend's burden would be to offer to help.

An offer the Bunny, with all his numerous pride issues, would never accept. Not that Jack would be much help with Easter preparations anyways, not really within the scope of his particular talents. No matter, he'd just show up and find a way to be useful. Jack was a fairly competent individual; growing up a Colonial kid had pretty much forced it on him. Jack would bet serious money that if he looked hard enough, he could probably find something to do to give Bunny a chance to ease off a bit, and if Bunny didn't want him there? Well, too bad. Now that Jack had made up his mind to help, there wasn't a force on Earth that could stop him. Some called it stubbornness; Jack preferred to call it dedication. He'd see that damn Rabbit sit still, eat a full meal and get some proper sleep if he had to hold the moody bastard down and force him too.

Now that he thought about it, a good meal was probably the perfect place to start. Plan of action decided, Jack turned his attentions back to the numbers on the page. Bunny wouldn't know what hit him, and Jack figured there was a fairly low margin of error if he treads carefully enough on Bunny's fragile ego.

After all, he was only going to make Bunny a meal, what could possibly be wrong with that?


	2. But You, Turn Me Toward the Light

So it was pointed out to me by an observant reader that technically speaking this is not a sequel by definition, but more of a companion or sister-fic. Chronologically yes, this fic overlaps Heart(h), although it has never been my intention to merely rehash the same scenes from a different point of view. In my headcanon, Aster has removed himself from his friends, thus limiting his perspective on the situation only to his encounters with Jack and his thoughts and reactions to them. Jack on the other hand, has friends for the first time since he was human. Friends that he loves to visit and are able to provide outside input on the situation as it evolves, which is what this fic is attempting to capture. You'll all have to let me know how well I'm accomplishing that!

As far as a legitimate sequel, well, the muses have something in the works for when this part wraps up. Stay tuned!

* * *

Truth be told, Jack hated the Tooth palace with a deep and abiding passion. Oh, the place was lovely, and the occupants were always fantastic company, which made visiting more than worthwhile, but by MiM, the _heat._ Contrary to popular opinion, popular being the Burgess kids spearheaded by Jamie, Jack wouldn't actually melt in this kind of ambient heat. Jack's innate magic kept him cool enough for survival in just about any place on Earth, save maybe the belly of an active volcano, but give him a break, only fire elementals could survive a place like that! No, Jack wasn't going to melt away in a big puddle, in fact it wasn't even enough to keep him away from his favorite believers during the summertime, he just had to keep his visits shorter, is all. No, Jack wasn't in danger from the heat so much as it just made him uncomfortable. See, most people just sweated a lot and turned red in high temperatures, but Jack? Jack didn't do any of that, he was incapable of it. Instead picture this; Jack gets pins and needles. Worst feeling on Earth right there, when your foot starts to 'wake up' after falling asleep. Jack had hated the natural phenomenon as a human, and now, in warm places, like say, oh Tooth's chosen home, there was no escaping the gradual creep of gooseflesh across his skin until, eventually, the tingling would start. After that it was all downhill until his skin felt like it was crawling with fire ants and he was forced to make a hasty exit back to cooler climates.

Jack's heat tolerance had gotten a lot better actually since he'd started collecting believers. They numbers in the thousands now, in fact, thankyouverymuch! Even with the added boost though, he still only had the staying power to hold out for about four hours before the discomfort became unbearable. Lucky for Jack, both Tooth and Sandy had long since understood that and neither held his limitations against him, a fact that both startled and humbled him in turns. Jack knew that he was somewhat raw around the edges, three hundred years of being nothing but unseen by humans and an annoyance at best to the majority of the spirits he'd stumbled across had left him jaded and wary, forever waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jack also knew that none of him companions seemed to realize this, save for Bunny who so sharp he never seemed to miss a thing, damn that oversized rodent. Well, Bunny and Jamie to an extent. Jack didn't think Jamie was old enough to have the context required for understanding, but there was just something about the way he handled Jack with kid gloves, no pun intended, that told Jack the adorable little half-pint had noticed that something was not quite on par with his frosty friend. From anyone else, the soft touch would have been unappreciated in the extreme, but from Jamie? Well, Jack had always been a sucker for kids, especially those that called him 'brother.'

Jack also knew that he was lucky that Tooth was enthusiastic enough to carry on a conversation with minimal input from the other participant, or else his lapse in attention would have long since been noticed. Not that he didn't care what Tooth had to say, it's just that Jack was still working on the focus thing. Although, at this point the winter spirit was starting to think that he was the poster child for an ADHD diagnosis. Come to think of it, that thought might have merit. Jack still had those textbooks stashed at North's, he should give the DSM-4 a quick browse for some further info, maybe he could figure out some sort of strategy to mitigate his symptoms...

Right, conversation with Tooth. Focus Jack, focus.

"And then I took a look at the premolar, and Jack you've never seen a cavity so horrible! What are they teaching kids today?" Jack couldn't help a chuckle at his friend's obvious distress. He sometimes felt that Tooth's priorities were slightly skewed, but hey, he'd once iced the roads to make a busload of nuns slide into a pole outside a strip club for no reason other than it seemed funny at the time. No one was hurt thankfully, but the look on the nuns faces when they realized where all the good Samaritans who'd run to give aid had just come from? Well, Jack didn't think he'd ever seen a group of women be so horrified at touching a man's hand in his life. Not that Jack could blame them, he knew what he'd have been doing with his hands if he'd been in that strip club and it wasn't playing patty cake with the bartender. Damn the 'joys' of an eternal puberty, anyways. Well, once he'd figured out that his heartbeat, like breathing, eating sleeping and all other bodily functions other people took for granted came with an on/off switch, that is. Hard to jack off (gigglesnort) without a functioning funpole.

Hell Jack, you're in the presence of a lady, focus!

"I think decent oral hygiene has sadly gone the way of the Dodo as far as parenting is concerned. You know, right on the heels of 'common sense,' 'work ethic,' and 'integrity and moral decency.'" Jack hated to speak ill of the children he'd sworn to watch over, but he couldn't help but feeling that sometimes there were fighting a losing battle, and they had all the less-than-fantastic parent's to thank for it. Tooth nods sagely across the table from him, teacup in hand.

"I worry Jack sometimes Jack about the world we'll see a hundred, two hundred years from now." Jack can't help but agree, lips pressed in a thin line. Silence falls over the two friends, each taking a minute to sip at their tea and compose their thoughts. Jack relaxes first, huffing a sigh as he leans back in his chair, stretching bare feet out in front of him, where a small flock of half a dozen mini-fairies shift to follow, cooing to each other over the perfection of his narrow toes, or something. A bunch of crazed foot fetishists, that bunch were right there.

"So, speaking of worrying, I dropped in on Bunny a couple days back." Jack had expected the topic would cause some surprise, but he wasn't expecting Tooth's distressed little squeak or her suddenly painfully wide eyes.

"Oh no Jack, tell me you didn't!" Jack blinks, confused as anything at her vehemence.

"Um, yeah? I don't see what's the big whoop, I mean I washed some dishes and had dinner with the guy. Who looked better at the end of it, I swear. I didn't even poke fun or frost his doorstep or anything. You'd have been proud of me Tooth; I was the very pinnacle of maturity and restraint." Now it' Tooth's turn to blink at him, long and slow.

"You washed dishes? Had dinner? Jack, you just walked into his home? Pooka's don't, well; they don't really _do_ that stuff. I don't know all the details, Bunny's never told me but it's some cultural thing, you don't just do that." Jack was forced to shrug, giving Tooth an easy grin in the hopes of calming her fears.

"I know, I was worried he'd be mad too, but he didn't seem anything more than surprised. Also, he totally needed his dishes done, mean you shoulda seen the pile; it was taller than I am! And no jokes about everything being taller than I am, I'm not _that _short!" Despite her reservations Tooth giggles into her hand and favours Jack with a fond smile.

"Well if you say so. Are you going to go back?" Jack nods in confirmation.

"Yeah someone's gotta keep an eye on him, and he was dumb enough to give me an open invite, so he'd better just _try_ to keep me out!" At this Tooth looks perplexed again and Jack can't help but wonder how many times he was going to manage to cause that expression today.

"An open invite? That's... highly unusual. Bunny values his privacy, I don't think even Sandy has that privilege." Now Jack was surprised, of all the Guardians he'd expected Sandy to also have free access. It was a well-known fact that the two of them were some of the oldest immortals currently occupying the planet and as such were pretty chummy. Jack honestly didn't know what to think of a world where Bunny had chosen his unlimited company over the freaking Sandman, who was a long-time friend and just plain awesome to boot. Some of his consternation must have shown because Tooth took pity on him, reaching one slight hand across the table to rest on his forearm.

"I wouldn't worry Jack, if Bunny didn't want you there he'd let you know. He's certainly not quiet about his displeasures!" Jack couldn't help but laugh in agreement with Tooth's observation.

"Yeah, I'll stick my head in again tomorrow, and if you get my body back in individually packaged pieces, you'll know how it went. Just don't forget to stitch it back together properly so everything heals right, I don't want to be stumbling about on backwards legs or something." As usual Tooth looked trapped between a giggle and a horrified expression at Jack's casual reference to his status as a member of the walking dead, which was progress over the straight up horror all his friends had sported when he'd first told them about his memories all those months ago. Apparently death and resurrection weren't actually standard fare for this particular gang, go figure. If Jack succeeded in one thing during his tenure as a Guardian it would be bombarding his friends with bad Zombie jokes until they finally stopped fretting about it so damn much. Well, everyone save Bunny, the Pooka had just blinked a couple times then shrugged it off, even going as far as making a couple of jokes at Jack's expense when the opportunity arose.

"Just... Be careful Jack. Bunny's skin isn't always as thick as it seems." Tooth's words are solemn, and Jack takes them at full face value, he knows that he still has a bit of a reputation among his friends as somewhat reckless and impulsive. It's a reputation he's earned in spades over the years and he can't fault her for her concern, considering she's never met Jackson Overland, the big brother, the doting son, the boy who became Man of the House far too young and, despite his love of tricks and games always knew when it was time to put childish things aside and be the man his family needed.

"I will Tooth, cross my heart." Jack's reassuring smile is met with a glowing one from the feathered lady across from him, and he feels the tension slip from his slim frame with her approval.

It was about at this point in the conversation that the crawling sensation had begun to escalate, and so Jack found himself bidding his hostess goodbye, promising her like he did every visit that he'd someday settle down and construct himself a home for her to be a guest in. A promise Jack had every intention of keeping. Someday. Maybe.

Yeah, whatever. He was Jack Frost; he had his staff, the wind at his back, and the world as his literal playground. He had believers and friends who were steadily inching towards 'family.'

He also had a man-sized, stubborn, overbearing control-freak of a Bunny to babysit.

Oh well, no rest for the naughty, right? Besides, it kinda sounded like fun.


	3. Wake Up This World, Wake Up Tonight

Up in the midnight sky Jack soars, whooping and cheering, urging the wind to carry him higher, spin him faster, to take him in tighter and tighter circles. Jack's joy is effervescent in the cool night air, his laughter filling the night with sweet noise. Here in the deep of a crisp fall night, whirling in a strange mad dance, Jack is King, and this is his playground. He banks suddenly, arching his back and twisting himself into a steep climb, straight up into the higher atmosphere. Jack climbs higher and higher, watching the pale sliver of the moon grow closer, the clouds approach and then part for him to pass, feeling the air thin around him. Eventually, the air is too thin, and Jack's lungs feel tight with it despite not being required to breathe. Up here even Wind struggles to manifest enough to keep him elevated, but Jack doesn't care, going higher is no longer the point.

No, the point is the fall.

Jack dismisses the Wind, letting gravity take over. For a brief instant he is suspended weightless before the Earth digs her sharp claws in and drags him down, down to her unrelenting bosom. As he gathers speed, beside him the wind shrieks in exaltation, screaming along beside him at terminal velocity, just waiting for the command.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Jack plummets headfirst now, tipping his face back to watch the ground approach. Beneath him the lights of Moscow glitter like tiny nightlights, slowly growing brighter as he freefalls closer. Stars above him, stars below him, and Jack swings like a pendulum forever between the two, always torn, always being drawn back to the noise and the bustle of humanity and the voices of the children, but the siren song of the sky forever sings in his veins like burning.

100 feet now.

50 feet.

20 feet.

10.

At Jack's command, Wind catches him mere inches from the concrete of the Plaza, sending him in a wide arch around the fountain and coming back around like a whip-crack, his passage leaving curling fernlike frost patterns in his wake, before carrying him in a dizzying vault over the nearby rooftops back into the wide expanse of velvet darkness. Jack lets out one more full-bellied howl to the Moon, screaming his wild joy to his father, his creator. From the corner of his eyes, Jack catches sight of the distant golden cloud, tiny streams of sand snaking their way across the air; thousands of happy dreams making their way to thousands of slumbering children. Jack re-routes himself, steering toward his friend, and the reason he'd travelled out this way in the first place, at least, before he'd gone and gotten himself distracted. His approach is noticed, and a flock of golden birds the size of pigeons rushes to greet him, flapping in circles around him as they escort him back.

"Didja see me, Sandy? Did you see that? Man, what a rush! Think I went higher than I've ever been before, I swear I could've touched Moon!" Jack shoves his hood off, baring his face to his shorter friend as he speaks. Sandy's grin is equally wide, far too used to Jack's crazy stunts to have been too concerned for him. North and Tooth had yet to learn that Jack lived to toe the line, to push the envelope, to see just how far, how hard, how long he could go until something went wrong. Probably not the safest way to live, but fun was Jack's centre and he was an extreme personality, nothing brought his higher than or made the fall sweeter then the thought of maybe hitting the ground. Jack wasn't suicidal or anything and he didn't enjoy pain, but a little bit of breathlessness, well, Jack loves that. Jack was all about letting his heart beat and his blood flow, letting the adrenaline tear through him like a forest fire. Jack does not need his heart to beat, does not need the pounding of life in his veins, but how else is he, corpse that he is, to feel truly alive?

Above Sandy's head, a series of golden images form from sand, cycling one by one, pretty much basic inquiries into Jack's wellbeing. Essentially, it was 'Hey Dawg, what's up?' in Sandman-speak. The first month or so Jack spent as a Guardian he could admit that talking to Sandy left him impatient and mostly stumped. He'd stuck with it though, noticing that his lack of voice usually meant the Sandy was the first person to be left behind in a group conversation if only because excited people tended not to pay attention to a voice that you can't actually hear. The Guardians in one room, you can imagine, were usually very excitable and therefore Sandy was often unintentionally shunted to the side. Knowing how it felt and sympathising, Jack had devoted a substantial amount of time and energy to decoding the Sandman's own personal form of charades. Seeking Sandy out for weekly one-on-one conversations had really paid off; Jack now considered himself fluent in dreamsand sign language.

It had also had the side effect of bringing Jack and Sandy closer together, which Jack was infinitely grateful for. Most people wrote Sandy off because he looked tame and was silent, but Sandy was definitely no pushover, as anyone who knew him could attest to. They'd never said anything to his face, but it was the unofficial consensus among the other Guardians that Sandy was the coolest and most badass of them all. Jack was pretty sure that Sandy knew though, anything less would have invalidated his title of most awesome. In fact if you asked Jack, he was pretty sure that when Chuck Norris went to bed at night, he checked his closet for the Sandman.

"I'm pretty good, and you Stardust?" Sandy rolled his eyes at the nickname, but threw up a few affirmative symbols that in this context pretty much meant 'A-OK!' Context turned out to be pretty important in understanding the smallest Guardian, it had taken Jack a while for example to figure out a Moon could stand for MiM, could stand for night time, or could even mean 'My god North's lost his pants! Don't look now cause it ain't pretty, children!' The last one was accompanied but some rather incredible facial expressions that Jack would never be able to forget, kinda like having to douse North's flaming pants with a hearty dose of frost only second after the man had yanked them off, bellowing at the top of his lungs could never be forgotten.

North knows better than to let the elves near the firecrackers anymore, one singed backside, ruined pants and traumatized roomful of Guardians was enough, thanks. Also, Jack can't help but wonder why none of them appear to wear underwear. At least, of the Guardians who actually wear clothing on a regular basis, sand and fur and feather's not counting for obvious reason, and wow if you thought about it over half of their little force went around pretty much stark naked, for all intents and purposes...

Conversation with Sandy, right. Focus Jack, focus.

Sandy is pretty used to Jack's occasional lapses and never seems to take it personally, instead just waiting for Jack's attentions to find their way back. Jack figured it was his naturally patient nature at work or something.

"Hey! You'll never guess what! Bunny made me a present!" Jack can't stop the extra-wide smile, all of his perfect teeth on display as he thinks about the plain white cotton garment, carefully folded in Bunny's linen closet, awaiting Jack's next visit. Sandy forms a question mark in inquiry, and Jack is happy to explain. "It was an apron, y'know, to spare my hoodie the horrors of dishwater when I'm over cleaning up the place. Man, did you know that Bunny lives like a slob? I meant, the Warren is immaculate, but his Burrow? It's like the dude's one of those stereotypical bachelors, only immortal, to give the mess whole CENTURIES to build up!" Jack's now punctuating his point with broad seeps of his arms, the tail end of his staff leaving little trails of ice on the dreamsand cloud, but Sandy didn't seem to mind. No Sandy's look of consternation doesn't appear to have anything to do with the ice and everything to do with Bunny. "Did I say something wrong? Cause you know I'm still working on the social cues thing, and any help would be appreciated."

Jack watches as Sandy's dreamsand forms a few hasty symbols, moving almost fast enough to leave Jack behind, but he manages to figure it out without too much difficulty.

"No, he didn't ask, I just showed up, I mean, the guy needed help, we could all see that he was overdoing it, damn stubborn bastard." Jack huffs a bit at the thought of his overgrown rodent, driving himself into near-collapse with his workaholic tendencies. If ever there was a guy in need of some fun in his life, it was Bunny. Lucky for him, Jack was all about the funtimes.

Sandy speaks again, still as quickly as before obviously anxious for the reply. Jack is a little puzzled by the line of questioning, but Sandy rarely wastes time on things unimportant so he answers best he can.

"No, no he hasn't asked me to leave, or stop or whatever. I mean, he gave me a freakin' apron, I think he's cool with coming home to a clean house and a homemade meal. Also, occasionally classic rock air-guitar serenades, y'know, when he arrives early and surprises me." This seems to bring Sandy up short, and the shorter man pauses, taking a moment to eye Jack up fully. Jack can't help but squirm a bit under the scrutiny. He doesn't think he's done anything he can be in trouble for, and even if he had Jack knew that Sandy wasn't the type to judge him for it or hold it against him, but the intensity of the consideration he was being given was making him _super_ uncomfortable. Long, silent minutes pass, Jack shrinking a little more into himself with every second, drawing his hands closer to his chest, staff clenched so tight his knuckles ached. Sandy suddenly seemed to notice his discomfort and shook his head, smiling as widely as ever and holding up his hands in a placating gesture, conveying to Jack that he was not in trouble, and could therefore relax. Jack did, letting out the breath he'd been holding in a gusty sigh and dredging up a smile in response. "So, you gonna tell me what that was all about?"

Sandy's smile is gentle as he speaks, forming the shapes at a more sedate pace than previously, which only adds to Jack's confusion as he translates.

"Does he make me happy? Sandy what kind of question is that? Of course he makes me happy, he's my friend!" Sandy blinks for a second, taking in Jack's befuddlement. Something about the look in Sandy's eyes makes Jack run his last sentence over in his mind. Something about it sounded strange to him, having spoken it out loud, but he's not sure what, or how, like maybe Jack had made a mistake or lied and hadn't meant to. "He'd my friend..." Jack drops his eyes murmuring softly, more to himself then anything. Sandy seems to take pity on him, because with the same fatherly smile he gestures Jack to sit, a common habit they've developed so they can chat while Sandy works. Jack takes the offered seat, accepting the pat on the head as the token of affection it is and pushing aside the part of him that wants to feel patronized, because this is Sandy and he doesn't even know what the word patronizing means. Sandy does however know the meaning of the phrase shit-eating grin, because there is no other way to describe the look on his face when he asks the next question.

"Bunny's housewife?" Jack chokes on his own tongue voice so high with shock it nearly cracks as he replies. "Sweet Moon Sandy, do I look like a girl to you? I mean just cause a guy helps a buddy out with his laundry and dishes and cleaning and cooking, and wears an apron, and... Oh Hell, I'm talking myself into a corner here aren't I?" The Sandman laughs at the frost 'blush' staining his friend's cheeks. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up little man, see if I ever make YOU any of my world-famous flaky dinner rolls." Jack draws his knees tighter to his chest; much to his chagrin, he can feel the frost creeping up his ears now, as telling of his embarrassment as anything. Sandy appears to decide that he's had enough fun at Jack's expense after that because he lets it go.

They chat off and on about a variety of topics after that, and Jack's trips to the Warren don't even come up again. When dawn begins to creep into this part of the world, Jack slips away, bidding his friend farewell as the takes to skies flushing pink with first light.

His whole flight back to Burgess, Jack can't shake the feeling that something is off. If Jack knows one thing about the Sandman, he knows that Sandy's silences speak more than his words ever do, and there is something in those telling silences, something to do with a certain Pooka that Jack has missed. All this thinking in circles though is more than Jack can handle at the moment, so he sets the thoughts aside for later. He has believers to visit today, and then tomorrow he'll be heading down to the Warren to really get some work done. He has plans to get an early start and tackle the unused, empty rooms in the basement. Jack can't wait to see the look on Bunny's face when his whole Burrow practically sparkles.


	4. I Can Feel the Storm Inside You

If it's a universally agreed upon fact among the big five that Sandy is the most awesome, then it is also as equally agreed upon the North was the one you went to when you needed advice. The man was always ready with a cup of tea, plate of cookies and the perfect words for any situation.

Right now, Jack was not too proud to admit he desperately needed some wise words.

North wasn't in his office when Jack slipped in through the window. Latching it behind him to keep out the chill, Jack settled himself on the window seat to wait, back pressed to the frigid glass to help combat the discomfort of the overly warm air. He didn't have to wait long, North returned in a few moments, muttering something about Yeti's and elves and pink glitter, and it was a telling sign as to his mood that even Jack's innate trickster wasn't interested in getting the fully story. North spotted him immediately of course, smiling widely at his guest. Jack attempted to return the smile, but it must have looked as fragile as it felt because North was instantly all business. In mere minutes he had tea steeped and a chair dragged over beside the window seat and was leaning forward, ready to listen. Jack opened his mouth to begin, but all that came out was a thin, reedy sound. Mortified Jack clapped a hand over his mouth, ready to bolt but it was too late. Jack's hand shook, his arm shook, in fact everything shook. It took him a moment to realize that it was his shoulders shaking, and while the hand over his mouth muffled the worst of the sobs Jack could feel fold tears freezing to his cheekbones.

For a second North looked truly alarmed, eyebrow's shooting up in what Jack could only describe as a 'Oh Holy Shit, what do I do NOW' look, but that faded quickly as the man stood abruptly, chair being shoved back so hard it clattered to the floor. North's larger body was instantly beside Jack o the window seat, taking up more space then Jack had thought possible, crowding right up into Jack's air until it seemed perfectly natural for the frost child to peel his hand off his mouth and fist North's shirt, burying his face in the older Guardian's shoulder and giving himself over to his sobs. It had been a long, long time since Jack had cried. As a newborn spirit, before he'd figured out how to kick-start his heart into a simulacra of life, he'd been unable too. Oh he'd wanted to, felt the feeling steal up on him like a thief in the night, but no tears would actually come. After he'd discovered the trick to pseudo-life, he'd spent so much time crying he'd honestly thought he'd gone long past 'making up for lost time' and straight into 'Alice in Wonderland crying a literal ocean.' Eventually by the end of his first century he'd bucked up and just... stopped. Just shut off, clamped down, buried the urge under as much imagined dirt as he possibly could and moved forward instead, declaring any more self-pity to be boring and a waste of time.

Right now though, Jack kind of wanted to heave up his soul via his tear ducts into North's red sweater, and since the other man seemed inclined to let him, he guessed he could let the self-recriminations slide just long enough to take him up on the offer. It had been a long, long time since Jack had just been held, crying or otherwise. So long, in fact that Jack was reluctant to let go even after the tears eventually slowed and stopped. North seemed content to let him be, holding him just tight enough to be tangible but not so tight as to smother, one large hand rubbing soothing circles onto Jack's upper back. Finally, and long, indeterminable moments, Jack found his voice again, haltingly describing to North the reasons for his upset, as best he could. Jack was cautious though, after his conversations with Sandy and Tooth, so he limited his story to the barest of bones; Jack had been visiting the Warren recently to keep an eye on an overworked Bunn, and help out where he could. While attempting the latter, he'd been caught somewhere he hadn't know he shouldn't be, and Bunny had been mad.

Mad, actually was probably far too polite a word to accurately describe the Pooka's reaction. Livid, perhaps, was better, wrathful even, practically incandescent with rage also seemed to sum up the situation quite nicely. By this point, not being able to see North's face and gauge his reactions as Jack spoke was beginning to wear on the teen, so he carefully extricated himself from the solid embrace, offering North a weak but grateful smile as he sat back, wiping the last stubborn bits of ice from his eyelashes as he described hightailing it out of the Warren as fast as he could, quite literally running away at top speed, hitting the tunnels and heading straight for the Pole as quick as he could.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I set a land speed record there for fastest corpse on two legs" Jack joked was a still-watery grin. "Don't even want to think about how hard I pushed wind to get here." To his credit, North barely flinched at the corpse comment, busying his hands with prepping fresh tea for himself, giving jack the cold tea to sip, as was the spirit's preference. The older man was getting much better with Jack's often self-deprecating humour, slowly understanding what Sandy and Bunny seemed to understand innately, that this was Jack's way of coping, a habit he'd adopted partly from actually self-esteem issues but mostly as a defence mechanism form a world that was all too frequently cruel to him. After all, if you're saying it first and loudest, it obviously doesn't hurt, so no one can use it against you. Jack didn't like that it seemed to upset both Tooth and North to a degree, but three hundred years of adopted behaviours did not disappear over the course of a couple months, and Jack had to respect his friends for making such wonderful efforts to accept and support him, even when they didn't always understand him. Like now, North giving him time to collect himself before sharing whatever wise little nuggets he had bouncing around in his brain.

Right, conversation with North. Focus Jack, focus.

North was regarding Jack with a level, even gaze, obviously gathering his thoughts in order to provide the best possible council. Jack allowed him the time, needed to hear the nest North had to offer, and also not to offend his host with his impatience. Jack was many things, but inconsiderate in the homes of other's was generally not one of them, bless his mother s iron fist, and lightning-fast delivery of the perfect slap upside the head. There were whole months as a child that Jack swore he was developing a bald spot in the area she most often targeted. Would've served him right too, maniacal little shit disturber that he had been. Was still. Whatever.

And North was about to talk now, seriously brain, focus.

"How long you say you've been visiting Bunny in Warren now, Jack? "

"Uh, a couple of weeks? Just here and there. I didn't want to leave him alone to long, let him trip into bad habits, but I didn't want to overstay my welcome and get myself disinvited." Jack couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped him. "Figures, though. First time in a long time I go out of my way for someone, to help them out, be a good friend and what does it get me? A damn freak fest! I mean, what if he doesn't let me come back? What if he hates me and doesn't want me to help anymore?" Jack felt his misery close over him; like that water had once closed over him, the feeling of desperation and panic not entirely unalike. "He made me and apron and everything, and I don't even know what I did wrong."

North's eyebrows went up at the last sentence, and Jack couldn't help but wonder what was so damn special about the apron. Of course Jack knew why it was special to him, seeing as it was only the third gift he'd received since he'd risen from the ice. The second being the matryoshka doll North had given him the day he'd become a Guardian officially, and the first being Jamie's solid unwavering belief in him, from the moment he'd first seen Jack in his bedroom all those months ago. Maybe it wasn't the kind of thing anyone else would consider a gift, but to Jack who' gone without belief for so long that he'd started to lose belief in _himself,_ it had been the most precious, perfect thing a living soul had ever gifted him.

"Then, you should ask him, da?" North's look was knowing, and Jack narrowed his eyes at his jolly friend.

"You know something you're not telling me, don't you?' North nodded into his teacup, taking a swig before replying.

"I do, but, it is not for me to tell, yes? You must ask Bunny. Remember though, Jack, these things cut deep, and old wounds left untended fester. Bunny has been hurting long time, but would must be purged, there will be more pain before healing. Are you ready for that, Jack?

Jack stared a North, almost uncomprehending. He'd already guessed that there was more to Bunny's fit then what had met the eye, and while part of him had wanted to stand there and scream back, to get up into the Pooka's face and shake him till he just _shut up,_ Jack had been afraid of the answers he might get, and so had run like a coward. Now though, now North was telling him to go back, to fight for those answers, and to brace himself for the tide. Jack stared at his tea a long moment, silently weighing the pros and cons of returning to the Warren to confront Bunny head on.

"What if he doesn't forgive me?" Jack wished his voice hadn't sounded to infernally young when he'd spoken, but honestly after the afternoon he'd had, what dignity did he have left to worry about losing? North made a dismissive gesture with his hand as he replied.

"Bah, Bunny will forgive; he burns hot like firework, fizzles out like ash. Have patience Jack, and courage. Most importantly, have gentleness, compassion. Remember, of all of us Guardians, it was you, and you alone, who he allowed to help." North punctuated the point by resting his heavy hand on Jack's thin shoulder. "You are strong boy, Jack. I know, rejection is scary thing, but you, you have strength of heart, and Bunny needs you."

Jack's smile was thin, tight-lipped. He was still nervous, hell he was still scared witless of returning, but never let it be said that Jack let his fear rule him.

If Jamie's gift to him was faith, and North's gift was acceptance, Bunny's gift had felt like home, like the offer of a hearth and table, the kind of which Jack hadn't had since his death. The kind of feeling Jack would fight for, would waltz right back into a metaphorical warzone for.

Like hell Jack would let a moody Lagomorph from outer space drive him away with his metric fuckton of issues. If it came down to it, Jack's would just start throwing his own issues back, a veritable magazine fight's worth of a psychologist's wet dreams if that's what it took to get through the dumb, furry head. Clenching his fists with determination, Jack thanked his host and departed for his lake, hoping a night under the waxing moon would help clear his head and give him a plan of action. Jack grinned into the empty night; he had an apology to plan and a Rabbity ass to kick back into line.

If only his hands would stop their damned trembling.


	5. Take What You Need From Me

A large, fat bullfrog lets out an indignant croak as he's startled out of his snoozing spot by the small pebble splashing into the nearby water, hurriedly hopping lopsidedly away. Jack huffs a small laugh, but it's a hollow sound, more reactive then from any actual humour. In the long years of Jack's forced solitude, he'd taken delight several times at this game; throwing small pebbles to startle the local wildlife. The aim was never, ever to hurt the animals, Jack liked them too well for that, the goal was just to get the poor things moving. Survival of the fittest and all, really Jack was doing them a favour by testing out their flight instincts. Today though, nothing amused. Even his visit with Jamie, while always pleasant, had failed to lift Jack's spirits the way it usually did. Worse, people were starting to notice. Jack knew that his friends concerns had shifted from Bunny's wellbeing to both Jack AND Bunny's wellbeing; and Jack had no one to blame for that but himself. Him and his damn nosy tendencies, seriously, if Jack had never had his brilliant idea to gatecrash the Warren and make himself useful, of all things, he wouldn't be sitting here by himself antagonizing frogs and being a general killjoy.

He hadn't mean to let it get like this after his last visit the too Warren. To be honest, Jack had been terrified walking back into the Burrow the morning after his and Bunny's... no, Aster's fight. He'd taken his time crossing the field on his way to the small dwelling, allowing the Pooka plenty of time to intervene and send him packing. When he'd made it into the kitchen, he noted that nothing appeared touched since the previous day. He' called out for Aster a few times, before carefully making his way down the ladder to the lower floor, hands shaking on the rungs with nerves the whole way. Jack's stomach was in knots as he walked, lantern before him, carefully avoiding so much as _looking _at the other rooms until he reached the end of the hall where Aster's room was. Jack had rapped a knuckle on the earthen wall, hoping to catch the Pooka's attention if he was inside, but no response had come. Jack remembered sighing a bit in relief then stepping through the opening, only to halt inches past the doorway.

Aster had been in bed fast asleep. Jack had felt his heart seize with panic, scrambling backwards to beat a hasty retreat when he noticed the telltale wet splotches on Aster's furry cheeks. Had the Pooka been... crying? Carefully, Jack had stepped forward, lifting the lantern to bathe his friends face in cheery yellow light. Sure enough, it looked like Aster had been crying, his whole face was soaked, eyes red-rimmed even while closed, and the Pooka's body was tense, un-relaxed despite his slumbering state. Jack would have suspected a Nightmare but there had been no evidence of black sand, so he was forced to conclude that it was stress.

Stress. Because of Jack.

Jack recalled how his heart had plummeted; the only thing keeping him from fleeing at once in shame was the burning desire to somehow make this _right._

Returning to the kitchen and getting to work had been one of the hardest things Jack had ever done. Truth be told, by that point Jack had felt worse than he had during both of the Easter's that he'd ruined. To Jack's knowledge, neither even had managed to make Aster cry, and yet somehow, Jack had managed it without even knowing why or how. Trust the winter spirit to make such a mess of things while trying to do a favour! If there were Olympic for guilt trips Jack would have won gold, hands down that day as he'd tidied, cooked and puttered. The glass of water was the first thing he'd attended too, knowing too well that a good cry always resulted in a headache from lost fluids, and Jack had made sure to carefully frost the glass just the right amount to keep the beverage cool, but not cold enough to add to a headache, if the Pooka woke up with one. About halfway into his meal prep, Jack had wandered back down, making just enough noise to alert someone awake but not enough to disturb a sleeper. Aster was still passed out, but he'd definitely been moving about, and the water was empty. Jack had refilled it just as before, and returned to the kitchen to continue his work.

If Aster's entrance and subsequent hug /apology combo had been surprising, the conversation that followed had surprised Jack more. Despite having come to the Warren for answers as per North's advice, Jack had found a sense of foreboding filling his chest as he'd worked, ratcheting his anxiety higher and higher until, by the time the meal was served Jack had been debating flinging himself out the window to escape the pressure. Then Aster had started to talk, and Jack's fears were realized, it'd been his entire fault for sticking his nose in, trampling over sacred things in a naive misguided effort to be _helpful._ Jack should've known by now that his name and helpful didn't belong in the same sentence. Hell, they didn't belong in the same hemisphere, for certain, and really, what kind of a friend was he, that he didn't even have an inkling until now of the grief his friend was obviously still carrying? Way to score and F for failure on that test!

But the conversation hadn't ended there, and instead of being angry, Aster had thanked Jack, and rewarded his with the gift of his true name; a precious gift indeed, as names held power over the bearer, which in the wrong hands could be catastrophic. Aster apparently trusted Jack though, more than Jack trusted himself.

Which apparently, was because Aster had feelings for him.

Feeling he had because Jack had been coming on to him, in fine Alien-Rabbit format, without having a clue what he was doing. Also, maybe because Jack was special or something, Jack wasn't sure because at that point he'd been having a damn heart attack. Wasn't three hundred a little young for an immortal to have a heart attack? Jack didn't know, but he'd felt the traitorous organ freeze up, before pounding double-time at his friend swords and the light touch at his wrist. It was all jack had been able to do to sit through the rest of the meal, trying to sort through his jumbled, panicky feelings. Jack had escaped as soon as it had been polite too, torn between putting as much distance between himself and the source of confusion as he could, but also by the bereft feeling that had struck him the moment he'd removed the apron and realized that this would be the final time he did so, because he wasn't allowed to play housewife anymore. Unless of course he actually was Asters housewife, and wow, talk about an epiphany. Every conversation Jack had been having the last couple weeks up until that point were sudden taken into a different context and boy, was he the world's largest dumbass. Sandy had practically spelled it out for him, and he still hadn't gotten the hint until the Pooka had applied it with the metaphorical sledgehammer.

The couple of times they'd met since then had been awkward at best, both uncomfortable with each other, Aster because he'd revealed his one-sided affections, and Jack because he desperately didn't want to lose his friendship and was probably trying far too hard to be causal about the whole thing. Despite that they'd still managed to fall back into the easy rhythm of give-and-take they'd been perfecting with each other since Jack had taken his oath. It was so natural, so simple that it had only tossed more confusion onto the befuddlement bonfire Jack's thoughts had become over the past month. His frustration had finally driven him back here, to his lake, in an effort to sort things out in his head once and for all.

With a sigh, Jack hopped off the tall branch he'd been crouched on, landing lightly on the muddy ground below. Fall had set in with a vengeance in Burgess, and Jack could feel the bite in the air that told him his time was coming back to this part of the world. Usually Jack was overjoyed, but he was finding it very difficult when his thoughts kept coming back in circles to the earnest look on Aster's face when he'd confessed. Honestly, it was getting a bit ridiculous. Suddenly fed up with himself; Jack strode purposefully onto the lake, feeling a thin layer of ice form beneath his feet with each step. It was still too warm yet to achieve a lasting freeze of the water, but with Jack there to help it would be more than thick enough for his purposes. Once in the centre, Jack used the end of his staff to scratch a cross shape onto the ice, labelling one side pros and the other cons. It seemed like an odd habit but Jack had once seen a college student agonizing over whether to switch her major do the same thing, and it appeared to help her organize her thoughts so he'd given it a try and it hadn't failed him yet. Well, the organizing his thoughts bit, it didn't always mean he was making the right choice, considering the Blizzard of '68 had been a chart-worthy decision and that had gone over like a rare steak at a Vegan convention.

You have a decision to make, Jack Frost. Focus.

Pro: Aster was handsome. Handsome enough to make Jack blush at the very thought, imagining the deep husk of the other's voice in the dark, miles of silk-soft fur sliding against his skin...

Breathe, think about dead puppies to kill the erection, focus.

Con: Aster was a Pooka, Jack was a human, or had been. Was still human-shaped at least, that was sure to cause at least a little bit of friction later.

Pro: Aster was a good man. Fellow Guardian, Herald of Spring, Bringer of Hope, Aster was also fantastic with children, once he actually deigned to get off his tail and spend time with them. He was hard working, devoted, and willing to fight to the death for the children in his care or his principles.

Con: Aster was a workaholic in fact, devoted above all things to his holiday, was used to his solitude, was far too serious for his own good, and had a nasty temper even if it blew over quickly. Jack could easily see them clashing on a myriad of little things every day.

Pro: Aster had a quaint little house he was more than willing to share with Jack.

Con: Jack was far too used to a nomadic lifestyle, and while the thought of having a home and a husband to look after was not unappealing, he worried that the settled life might chafe.

Pro: Aster was wonderful; he made Jack happier than anyone ever had. He understood Jack, sometimes even finished his sentences. He had made a priceless gift for Jack, but more importantly he'd made room for Jack, offering him the shelter of his hearth and his heart without asking for anything back.

Con: Jack didn't know what he'd managed to do to deserve this, and was terrified of fucking it up.

Taking a step back, Jack surveyed his chart, dismayed to realized that, even laid out like this, he still didn't know what he wanted to do. He wasn't sure how long he'd stood there, staring at the ice like it held the mysteries of the universe, until he became aware of the shadow lurking in his periphery. Moving like striking Cobra Jack spun, swinging his staff around to stop against Pitch Black's throat, the cure tipping the Nightmare Kings head back just the slightest bit. For his part Pitch didn't appear overly surprised, or even all that threatened, instead he looked... distinctly amused.

"Well well, what do we have here? A frosty little spirit, far from his friends and believers? Pray tell, what is putting such a lovely frown on your pretty face?" Pitch's tone is pure mocking, golden eyes rolling until their staring directly into icy blue. As they make eye contact Jack is momentarily surprised by how tired Pitch looks, how ragged around the edges. It's fairly obvious to the winter child that most of Pitch's current attitude is likely bravado; perhaps a chance to get a few digs into an enemy he was probably betting was to kind to kick him while he was down. Jack feels little sympathy, but a little is still some, so he finds himself hesitating in driving the other immortal away just long enough for Pitch's gaze to slide to Jack's feet where his lists are still in full view. Realizing his error, Jack tries to prevent this by raises his staff, the curve forcing Pitch's face higher but it's all for naught, Pitch must have been observing him long enough to know what the list is about because even the split second glace has the cruel smile spreading wider.

"My _my _Jack, the Pooka? Really? He could do so much better than you. But you know that, don't you, dearheart?"

"Sh-shut up, bastard." Jack tried to sound confident, but the stutter in his voice betrayed him, Pitch leaping onto the weakness like a wolf on his prey. The cultured voice was speaking the soundtrack of Jack's deepest fears, and while Jack was wise to the trick, it was so _hard _not to believe it when he kind of already did, maybe. He realized then that he had been retreating slowly, step by step, Pitch advancing on him, pressing his verbal attack with his body language as well as words.

"Oh Jack, little frostling, did you think you had a chance? That you could make it work? That love would light the way?"

"Love?" Jack stopped suddenly, forcing Pitch to stop too. Love? Jack hadn't thought that, had he? I mean he didn't _love _Aster,did he? He'd have known by now, right? Pitch twigged on to Jack's confusion, seeming to figure out that he'd miscalculated and quickly readjusting his strategy, going back on the offensive.

"To think, I never would have expected that a person's greatest fear could change _so dramatically_ in such a short amount of time..." Pitch paused expectantly, waiting for Jack's full attention before continuing. "Of all the things you could fear most of all, sweet Jack, you fear losing your place in that furry abominations life? You fear only the inevitable! No other in their right mind..."

"Wait!' Jack's sudden outcry seemed to startle the black clad man into silence. "Wait, Pitch, say that last bit again." The Nightmare King blinked once at Jack in shock, and Jack could practically see the other man wondering if Jack had lost his mind. He must've decided Jack had, and that is was necessary to humour the crazy person, because he complied.

"You only fear the inevitable..."

"No, not that!" Jack cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand, having lowered his staff while the other had spoken. "The bit before that, please." The addition of good manners really appeared to throw the darker man for a loop because he was looking more and more deer-in-the-headlights by the second, his composure rapidly coming undone as Jack's fear faded; the spirit taking back control of the conversation.

"I said, of all the things you could fear the most, losing the Rabbit and our place in his life is it, with the implication that it is a stupid, ridiculous fear to have, because you and the Rabbit? Seriously, I can't imagine a more ill-advised romance in the history of..."

"Yes, yes that! That's what I'm most afraid of now? Not losing believers, or being rejected by the other Guardians, or being stuck in the middle of a large crowd stark naked, but losing Bunny?" Pitch's scowl was as vicious as Jack's smile was brilliant.

"Yes, that, you puerile little OOMPH!" Pitch grunted as all the air was unexpectedly forced form his lungs, a strange coldness pressing itself to his front. It took several long seconds before it occurred to him that he was being hugged by a very enthusiastic winter elemental. He flailed a little at the thought, boots slipping on the slick surface. It took a couple hearty shoves before the brat finally relented, releasing his grip long enough to be shoved off. "You little cur! What was that for? Oh, these were my good robes too, now they'll have to be _burnt..._"

"That," Jack began, cutting the other male off once again, "was for helping me make a decision! I'd have been out here all decade without you! Just, don't tell anyone about the hug, I have a reputation to keep." Pitch spluttered a little at that, which only made Jack grin wider. "Actually, I take it back tell anyone you want, no one's gonna believe it anyways." This seemed to spur Pitch in action, the man lunging towards jack with murder in his eyes, snarling at the chipper boy in rage.

"You miserable little sewer rat! I'll..." But Pitch didn't get to finish his sentence, because as soon as Jack took to the air, pale feet leaving the ice, the surface weakened without the stability provided by the frost child and with a mighty crack, Pitch fell through. Jack hovered overhead, laughing gaily at the shadow spirit's struggle to pull himself from the tepid water. This couldn't kill Pitch, not in the slightest, even weak as he was, and knowing that Jack felt no guilt at having a good laugh over his enemy's predicament.

"You swim like a rock, Black! You should really work on that, bet the ladies would love to see those legs in a swimsuit!" Pitch cursed so foully Jack was grudgingly impressed, and finally taking pity on the half-drowned spirit he froze just enough of the lake's surface to allow Pitch to drag himself out and to shore. Not sticking around to watch the other man flail about any longer, Jack took off like a shot, whooping and hollering his happiness to the nearly full moon above.

Jack has focus, he has direction. Jack has purpose, a reason for existing.

If Jack is lucky, by this time tomorrow he'll be a married man with a home and a husband to come back to at the end of every day.

And none of it will be perfect; and likely not easy, Jack will have to get used to trusting someone with his weaknesses and his fragility. And there will be fights, and disagreements, but there will also be laughter and joy if Jack has anything to say about it. There will be talking and cuddling and, if Jack is brave enough, furry hands there to cradle his heart. And he might be scared of ruining things and losing what he loves most, but more than that Jack thinks he is scared of never having tried in the first place.

Jack grins, and if he feels wetness in the corners of his eyes, well, he's flying pretty fast at this point and watery eyes are to be expected. It naturally, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, for the first time in three long, lonely centuries, Jack is flying _home._


	6. I'll Stay With You

This is it guys, final chapter. Thanks so much to all of you who bookmarked this, left me comments, or who even just read silently, it's all very appreciated. I have a third part currently in the planning process, which will likely be the end of this series. I also plan a doing a full revision of both Heart(h) and LAY for all typos, grammatical issues and what have you, so thank you for your continued patience on that front.

That being said, I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations.

* * *

Even as a mortal, Jack was never one to waste any time on the edge of asleep and awake. He was usually dead to the world the moment he hit the mattress, and wide awake the moment his eyes opened. Even though sleep was now a luxury for him as opposed to a necessity, Jack had not lost the ability to go from practically comatose to ready to go in about three seconds flat. It had been handy in his old life, allowing him a few precious extra minutes every day, minutes not spent waking up or winding down, even if his sister had always complained bitterly about the unfairness of it.

Now however, for the first time Jack was finding it in himself to hate this particular ability. Jack had awoken about half an hour ago, and try as he might, he could not slip back into slumber. Jack sighed, his little huff of breath ruffling the fur on one of Aster's long ears, the limb giving a small twitch at the stimulus. Sprawled ungainly atop of Jack where the winter spirit had pulled him down the night previous, Aster continued to sleep the sleep of the thoroughly overworked and exhausted, pinning Jack to the soft mossy bottom of the nest with over six feet of fur and muscle. To most, the weight would have been suffocating, but Jack didn't need to breath and therefore the soft, heavy burden was grounding, tethering him to reality, the wisp of fur against his bare skin so incredibly decadent. Unfortunately it also meant that Jack couldn't escape until Aster woke up.

"Not the most thought out plan now, was it, self?" Jack grumbled quietly, Aster giving no response except to let out another loud snore, one hind leg jerking a couple times in his sleep. Jack sighed again, tipping his head back and closing his eyes in one more attempt to go back to sleep, running his hands down Aster's back and ribs in an affectionate gesture.

At least, it was meant to be affectionate, but must have tickled instead because the deadweight on top of Jack twitched once, twice, squirming slightly away from the sensation. Jack's eyes flew open, blinking once, twice, before repeating the motion. Aster shifted again, still fast asleep. With an only very slightly evil grin, Jack did it again, and again, until he'd painstakingly coaxed the slumbering Pooka far enough over that Jack could wriggle out from beneath him. Jack fumbled about in the total dark, stumbling out of the nest and nearly tripping over his hoodie and apron. Jack groped blindly for the fabric items, gathering the up in his arms as he navigated his way out of the room by feel. He progressed down the hall the same way, aided in small part by the light at the end shining down from the main floor. Ascending the ladder with one hand was difficult, but still much easier than it had been the first time he'd come down to the basement carrying cleaning supplies, owing to the practise he'd logged since.

Jack saunters into Aster's... no, _their_ kitchen stark naked, soiled garments in hand. Blue eyes quickly survey the damage from the night before writing the table off as completely toast, before spotting his pants beside the wreckage. Stepping carefully over the larger splinters, Jack moves to gather the last of his clothing, planning to chuck the whole mess into the laundry tub for a good scrubbing. He's only just scooped the brown trousers up when he's startled into dropping the whole armload by strong, furred arms snaking around his narrow waist. Jack gasps, leaning his head back into his husband fluffy chest, unable to stop the smile that spread when Aster curves over him to press a wet-nosed kiss to Jack's forehead.

"Forget the clothes mate, I like you better like this, yeah?" Aster's voice is roughened with sleep, rich and warm where he speaks into Jack's ear. The sensation causes the winter child to shudder, Aster chuckling with pleasure at the response and tightening his grip on the boy.

"Can't , we have rule's after the fire incident, remember? No Guardians are allowed to be pantless in public unless they don't usually wear them, remember?" Aster's chest rumbles against Jack with another laugh, and he finds his head tipped farther back by gentle fingers beneath his chin so Aster can reach to lay a sweet kiss on his lips.

"I can be convincing, I tell yah. You'll change your mind right quick." Aster murmurs his words directly onto Jack's smiling mouth.

"It's tempting Cottontail, but I think you'll just have to settle for watching me do laundry in the nude for now. Besides, don't you have a table to fix?" Jack's tone is pure mischief as he gently extricates himself from the Pooka's grasp, bending very deliberately to collect to forgotten clothing and wandering out the door to the yard, pausing only to send a sultry look over his shoulder as he strolls out into the sunlight. Aster hesitates only long enough to check his mouth for drool before following his mate out into the bright morning sunshine. Sure enough, Jack has tossed his clothes into the large laundry tub and is turning to come back inside, presumably to set the water to boil. Aster intercepts him three steps in, pulling the smaller body flush to him by the hips and kissing Jack breathless. Jack's arms immediately wind about Aster's neck, pulling the Pooka deeper into the kiss. Jack lets Aster lick into his mouth, chasing the taste of the crisp sweetness of mountain snow found in all the little corners. Jack moans despite himself, low and needy, feeling more than hearing Aster's happy laugh as the kiss ends.

"Right now Jack, I think I want to see you spread out here, naked and begging." Jack can't stop the frosty 'blush' from rising on his cheeks and shoulders at the thought of it, which only seemed to encourage the Pooka more. "You're not expecting any guests, right? Not sure I want this to be a spectator sport." Jack can't help the shy tone that creeps in, the thought of North or Sandy or Tooth catching them aroused and intertwined a horrifying prospect.

"Naw Jackie, only you drop by unannounced." Aster kisses Jack again, further exploring the teen's lush mouth. Jack can't stop his hands from bunching in the velvety fur of Aster's shoulders, the slight pain seemingly driving the Pooka wild if the sudden sharp edge to the kiss was any indication. Ending the kiss and pulling back just enough to speak, Jack decided to toss his reservations to the wind.

"Fine, just... be careful, if I show up with grass stains on my pearly whites from biting the lawn, Tooth will never forgive you." The sharp bark of laughter that resounds from the Rabbit chases away Jack's last lingering hesitations and he steps forward back into the kiss. Closing his eyes and allowing himself to be swept away on the rising tide of lust, Jack lets his husband bear him down to cushiony grass. Jack pulls Aster closer, loving the hedonistic feel of that magnificent pelt rubbing against him from head to toe. He is therefore completely unprepared to be rolled until its Aster's back on the green and Jack hovering above him, straddling his hips, hard cocks rubbing delightfully together. Jack can't stop his tremble or his moan at the sensation, every accidental shift sending sparks off behind his eyes. Bracing him hands on Aster's strong chest, Jack leans forward, awkwardly attempting to set his hips thrusting into rhythm.

Jack's virginal inexperience must've been shining through, or perhaps it's merely the other Guardian's own impatience that had powerful paws gripping Jack's hips to guide him, setting up a nearly punishing pace. Jack sobs, babbling incoherently was must a combination of Aster's name and a few choice curses as he curves his body over his lover's, fitted together from hips to shoulders with Jack's face buried in Aster's neck. The pace continues, relentless, Jack barely able to keep up, one hand now clenched in the lawn beside Aster's ribs to brace himself, the other frantically touching every part of his husband's chest and neck he can reach. It's only seconds later that the world goes white behind his clenched eyelids as Jack, completely unprepared for it, howls his climax into Aster's jaw line. Spent, he slumps boneless into Aster, the Pooka shuddering and tumbling over the edge right on his heels.

Lying there, sticky with sweat and cum, Jack dozes gently against his husband. They should probably get up and bathe, if only to avoid being stuck together later, but Jack's having a hard time finding the motivation to move, not when his pillow is warm and breathing and so incredibly soft to the touch. One of Aster's large paws slides down his back from shoulder blade to the nearly nonexistent swell of his ass, just resting there in the promise of things to come and Jack can't wait. Well, he can, cause honestly, give him a few after all that to recover for the next round, yeah?

"Should add 'bath' to the to-do list after the laundry and tale, I reckon." The Australian drawls, Jack giggling tiredly into his throat.

"Also, add 'tell everyone else so they can cash in the betting pool,' I figure we can make a case to get at least half the winnings." Even though he can't see his face, Jack can almost feel Aster's confused frown at the comment,

"Wait, those Drongo's had a pool going?" Jack shrugs, readjusting himself for better comfort in Aster's hold.

"Wouldn't put it past them, Sandy and North had it figured out best as I can tell, can't imagine Tooth being far behind."

"Yeah well Sandy's a given." Aster states, Jack humming in agreement. "You do realize that as soon as we open our gobs North's gonna want to throw some kind of shindig together for us, right?" Jack smiles a bit at the thought, unable to help himself.

"Hey, I'm down, free food, free booze, not that either of us are drinkers, but whatever. On one condition though." Here Jack lifts his head, shuffling up a bit to make eye contact with his husband. "Housewife or not, there is no force on Earth that will get me into some kind of frou-frou white dress, _savvy?_" Jack's tone is so deadly serious Aster can't resist the dig.

"But Snowflake, not everyone has the collarbones to pull off a sweetheart neckline." Aster quips, tracing one aforementioned collarbone with a finger to drive the point home, thoroughly enjoying Jack's confused expression as he does so.

"Sweetheart what now? Babe, is there something about you and women's clothing you need to tell me?" Aster tips his head back and laughs, a full, belly laugh, hugging Jack tighter in merriment. The boy gives in, laughing along until they're both giddy and drunk on each other, exchanging light kisses and caresses under the warm spring sun.

"You damn pervert!" Jack accuses laughingly as Aster's paws gropes lazily at one taught butt cheek.

"Your pervert." Aster acknowledges, his voice deepening with desire and the groping turning more serious until Jack moans, eyes sliding shut. "Always be yours, Jackie, 'til the universe collapses back into atoms."

Jack's smile against Aster's lips is perfect, brilliant, glorious.

"Sounds like fun." The frost child murmurs, and seals it with a kiss.


End file.
